


Freely Given

by TeaJay (LoreWren)



Series: Tales Cerulean [2]
Category: Exalted (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Cannibalism Play, Comeplay, Demons, Established Relationship, Leather Kink, Lintha (Exalted), Lintha Culture & Customs, Lube, M/M, Non-vegan Sex Toys, Offscreen Flaying, Offscreen Murder of an Unnamed Character, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pirates, Role Reversal, Sex Toys, Simultaneous Orgasm, Strap-Ons, Sword & Song (setting), Those last two tags refer to the same object, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Tya (Exalted), Xenophilia, references to cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoreWren/pseuds/TeaJay
Summary: For a moment I stared, trying to resolve the straps into anything like clothing. It was a truly beautiful cerulean blue, the color of deep ocean in just the right light, a few shades darker than Verithine’s skin. The buckles were polished to a high jewelry shine.
Relationships: Admiral Verithine/Teller of Tales Cerulean
Series: Tales Cerulean [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097711
Kudos: 2





	Freely Given

I blinked. “What’s this?”

“A gift.”

I took a moment, counting days. _Definitely not an anniversary. Three months? Maybe? Would think it would be closer to three and a half, or more if you’re counting from my joining the crew and not our first time screwing…._

“Glad you enjoy the box. There’s something inside.”

I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t paused for long. “Just trying to puzzle out the occasion, Captain.”

Verithine lounged, somehow managing to take up nearly twice as much space on the bed while remaining seated. His muscles shifted under the skin of his bare chest. I appreciated the view. “The occasion,” he said, and I brought my eyes back to his, “is I want to see you in it.”

He’d been insisting I should wear more blue, with a name like the one I’d taken, and dismissed my arguments that “cerulean” was intended to reference the ocean, a connection that was rather undermined if it seemed to mean _me_. I opened the box, expecting a robe, or maybe half a wardrobe, with how heavy the thing was.

For a moment I stared, trying to resolve the straps into anything like clothing. It _was_ a truly beautiful cerulean blue, the color of deep ocean in just the right light, a few shades darker than Verithine’s skin. The buckles were polished to a high jewelry shine. 

Sitting in the middle was a glass sculpture, colored just under the surface to match the warm, earthy brown of my skin. Joy swelled up my throat. “You know,” I said, nearly laughing with it, “I wasn’t sure you knew what these looked like.” The shaft was smooth, no knot where a Lintha dick would have one, but still textured enough on the head to be clearly going for realism, not just a rod.

He waved a hand. “I had it commissioned.”

Warmth bloomed from my chest to my face. Lintha had rules. Verithine’s fleet didn’t hold to them firmly, but nearly everyone had still been raised in them. You didn’t buy gifts for lesser species, _nga vena_. Hand them an excess trinket, sure, but—this was fitted in every particular. “You bought these for me.” 

He took my meaning. “I did.”

I touched the harness. Supple leather, soft to the touch without any signs of wear. The dyeing process alone was likely more expensive than the last set I’d owned, to get a blue that clear and true. I didn’t even know anything that _could_ take that color. “What hide is this?” 

“Lintha. No one you know.”

I waited for the laugh to give it away as a joke. When I realized none was forthcoming, I probably should have taken at least a moment for horror, but I’d seen him kill enough men, seen his teeth come away bloodier than his sword. I licked my lips, arousal coiling low. “Fuck.” It came out breathless. There wasn’t anything else to say.

“Well, little bard,” he rumbled, “are you going to put it on?”

I swallowed and turned. He’d seen me naked, but this was….different. My robe was long enough to give me a bit of privacy even when I managed to fumble my pants off, almost tripping over them as they dropped to my feet. The straps settled neatly around my waist at the middle notch, as did the ones that split into two at the back. I pressed a palm to my perineum, flat from the base of my dick to where the leather opened at my ass. More stable than my last one had been, and if I wanted to keep it on while someone fucked me I _could_. An image of Verithine doing that, wrapping a hand around my cock while he was inside me, set me shivering. I grabbed at the ship to steady myself. 

“Does it fit, little bard?” He sounded hungry.What had he said? _“I want to see you in it.”_

I threw a smile over my shoulder and untied my robe, dropping it to the ground as I turned. “I think so.”

He smiled, slow and predatory. “Good bitch.” My breath hitched. “Get over here.”

I climbed up to straddle him, shivering when my dick brushed against him. He ran a thumb along the leather over my hip, steady and maddening. “Did you—“ He scraped a nail just above the harness and I swallowed. “Did you kill them?”

“Mm?”

“The-the-the-the harness. Did you—?”

The grip shifted, not Verithine but Master, taking the back of my head with his free hand so he could pull my ear to his mouth. “Tore his throat out.”

I swore something. Couldn’t tell you what.

“You have no idea what blood tastes like. Not really. Kimbery taught us how to shape the world and taste the essence of it, and even an anathema beast can tell you how truly it flows through heart’s blood.”

“Fuck, fuck, _Master_.” I ground down onto him, feeling his cock under me, wanting it. _Please_.”

“Could rip you open and you’d thank me for it, pretty little bitch.”

“Yes, please, don’t stop, please,” my words went fuzzy and senseless, begging and little more.

He tipped my head back, lips against my throat. “Don’t stop?”

I trembled. “Master,” I breathed. His teeth pressed in, the barest pressure but sharp enough to draw blood. “C-captain.”

Lips and tongue, soft and sucking hard enough to bruise, pulling blood out of me. No new wounds, no teeth. “There’s my good bitch.”

“Can—can I—your cock, can I—“ He grabbed my hand and pressed it between us. I squeezed, loving the way his pupils widened as he watched me. 

“Yes, bitch?”

I shuddered. “I want you, want you, inside me, please?”

He tugged me back by the hair and raised his eyebrows at me. “I thought the point of this was that you wanted to be inside _me._ ”

My tongue stopped working. I had said that, and even meant it, but it had been weeks ago. _Did_ _he….did he go out and get someone to start making it that week? That day?_

I kissed him hard, pressing up from his lap to reach him.

“Still interested, then?” 

“Want to fuck you until I can’t walk.” I breathed hard. “Want, want to, yes, please.”

My master leaned back, rolling me off him while he reached for oil from the bedside table. “Hand.”

I held my hand out and he poured a bit of oil on it. He shucked the cloth around his hips—I could follow the knots they used now, complicated things that were a language in themselves, family lines and history in the weave.

Two months ago, I might have pretended not to stare. He grinned, pulling one knee up to frame his cock, knotted and ridged, the color of salt-kissed copper. “See something you like?”

“You are gorgeous,” I breathed. Scars up and down his body, one up the back of the thigh he had pulled up. I had spent nights just running my hands and mouth over them, learning their shapes until I knew them better than my own body. “Fuck, I—I can—?”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him. “My bitch couldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.”

I shivered and ran the oil between my fingers, warming it before I pressed into him. My captain watched me and made those deep noises I’d never heard from a human, that always reverberated through where I touched him—but I’d never felt them from _inside_ him before. They ran up my fingers, sending me shuddering until I forced myself still. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Y-yes, Master.” This wasn’t my first time fingering a man, or even a Lintha man. There was no need to feel nervous and fluttery. No need to be this breathless with it, hardly having done anything at all. 

He groaned when I worked a second finger in, then started pressing back against me, relaxing, opening. “ _Kireeki,_ ” I breathed, and rarely had I given so devoted a prayer to the goddess of teeth that lurk in the depths. My very own oceanic predator grinned, his eyes nearly shut, shining in the low light. 

“Tell me you want it.”

I made a helpless noise. “So much, so much.”

My master grabbed me by the wrist, twisting me into him and then out with a wet sound I barely heard over my own heartbeat. He grabbed me as easily as my wrist, throwing me on my back. “Again.”

I couldn’t stop shaking, jerking my— _oh fuck_ —my cock into empty air. “Master, _please_.”

My master pressed a hand to my chest and held himself above me. “Watch.”

As if I could have done anything else. He sank onto me, his eyelids falling closed, his muscles rolling under his thighs, and I could nearly feel the warmth and the pressure as I saw him tense and relax, pulling me deeper.

“Mm,” he murmured, “been a while.”

I choked. Of course he’d done this before, but hearing him _say_ it. 

Then he _moved._ A gentle rhythm, so thoroughly in my bones that I matched my hips to his before I knew what I was doing: rocking in time with the movements of the ship. I felt each swell running through me, building like the tide.

“M-Master.” I swallowed. “May I—may I come?”

He leaned forward, bracing his arms above me, shifting the angle to one that started him purring. His cock pressed into my belly and I jerked, wanting to rut into it and into him and— 

“You want to come in me?”

My head spun. “Y-yes.” The idea of filling him had had me shivering on its own, and the idea of him _letting_ me—

“Love you like this,” he rumbled.

I whined, making hardly any sound and thinking even less. His rhythm shifted, faster but just as steady, and I heard his breathing change, felt him curl tight enough to press his mouth into mine. 

“Ask again.”

“Please.” All breath, no room in me for any better sound. “ _Please._ ”

His seed hitting my skin lost me the last of my self-control. I cried out. My master smirked, or maybe grinned. “Like it that much?”

“Master,” I whined, trying and failing to get as far as apologizing for coming without permission, still trembling with the aftershocks.

He laughed as he slid off me—I squirmed, still oversensitive, caught between _too much_ and _more, please._

Master settled beside me on the bed, semen beading on his cock, marking a stripe up his side. “Clean this up and I’ll let you fuck me again.”

I blinked, still foggy. After a moment, I rolled over to lick that arc of semen off him, pausing when he said—something. I didn’t recognize the word. I looked up.

“Good bitch,” he murmured. 

That, I understood. 

**Author's Note:**

> The Lintha have not gotten a 3e overhaul as of this writing, but in 2e’s The West, one section starts off with, “As a matter of pride, Lintha create no goods. They steal or buy everything they own, and trace all their wealth to thievery.” I’ve played with this a little here, and essentially decided that, from a Lintha perspective, all wealth is—or at least should be—for the family. Stealing and slavery are both only crimes when committed against family, and otherwise are just good business sense. Similarly, crafting (items) is human work, not to be confused with religion and philosophy writings, both fine Lintha work. You’ll note some echoes of our world’s patriarchy re: arts vs. crafts.
> 
> In a later work we’ll meet Keola, who got fed up with “creat[ing] no goods” and literally joined Verithine’s “Sword & Song” fleet because she wanted to cook. (On that note: Verithine, as a point of pride and for security’s sake, keeps no people enslaved.)
> 
>  _Nga vena_ is a created phrase. Ceru has the basic meaning right, and more flowery translations would include “not blooded,” “bastard,” or “of no family line,” depending on context. _Nga_ is a negative, here, and _vena_ is slightly broader than Lintha—any demon is _vena_ , and demon of Kimbery’s could be referred to as _Lintha vena_ , because they share essence/blood/history. If you wanted to be a little more polite to the demon you were addressing, you might say instead that you are both _Kimbery vena_.


End file.
